"Thanks, Jim."

They rode in silence until they finally pulled up in front of a flower shop. Bob got out and bought everything they had; he filled the front seat of the car with bouquet upon bouquet.

"That ought to smooth the path," Bob said.

"It sure should!" Olivia said.

Minutes later they arrived at Martha Ann's house, which was a gorgeous southern antebellum mansion behind a gate, down a long drive lined on both sides with live oaks dripping with Spanish moss. The front of the house had enormous columns that crossed the portico and four sets of French doors with tall black shutters on either side of a ma.s.sive front door.

"This is Maritza's mother's house?" Olivia said. She was completely stunned. "I thought she was a fry cook in the local diner?"

"She was. Her parents thought she ought to work for her spending money when she was a teenager."

"I didn't know she came from money," Olivia said.

"Her folks own the chicken-processing plant in town. It's the largest one in the United States or the second largest."

"So she's rich?"

"Rich is a relative term," Bob said. "In my world, I'm rich. I'd say her folks get along fine."

"I'd say so too," Olivia said and shook her head.

They pulled around the circular drive. Bob and Gladdie got out, carrying armloads of flowers, and rang the doorbell. A few minutes pa.s.sed and Belle, Martha Ann's head honcho/confidante/majordomo, answered the door.

"h.e.l.lo, Belle!" Bob said.

"Well, h.e.l.lo, Mr. Bob. Miss Maritza said to tell you she ain't home. Hey, Miss Gladdie! You want some cake?"

"Grandmomma!" Gladdie screamed and ran inside to Martha Ann, who was stationed in the foyer.

"Baby doll!" Martha Ann said loudly.

Gladdie flew into her arms and as instructed, Bam! Belle slammed the door right in Bob's face, so hard he thought it might fall off the hinges.

CHAPTER 16.

Sorry

Bob was stunned. Olivia was horrified. Even Jim their driver was surprised.

They were all standing in the yard at the bottom of the front steps.

"This is worse than I thought," Bob said. "I thought Belle liked me."

"Man, what did you do?" Jim said.

The afternoon was very warm and there was a gentle breeze that carried the scent of jasmine that Olivia proclaimed to dislike-at least in candles. She could not remember if she had ever smelled it as it occurs naturally in a garden.

"He was a bad dog," Olivia said. "Gosh, it smells heavenly here. What is that smell?"

Jim said, "Confederate jasmine and pine mixed up with the roses from the garden over yonder."

Jim pointed to an area of small boxwoods laid out in an argyle pattern. In the center of the diamonds were stands of old roses and hybrid tea roses. The ancient brick wall that surrounded the property was blanketed with Confederate jasmine vines.

"Jasmine! But I hate jasmine!"

"Maybe you don't," Jim said. "See that bush that's pale, pale pink? That's a rose from the time of Abraham Lincoln! That's how long these folks been here."

"My G.o.d. That's incredible. I've never had a garden."

"For G.o.d's sake! Please! Cut the garden commentary and tell me what to do!" Bob said. What the h.e.l.l? he thought. I'm practically hysterical, and they're talking horticulture! And why are they so relaxed? "Olivia? Do you know something I don't? Have you spoken to her?"

"No, if I had, I would've told you. You know that! I'm just very taken by this beautiful house and this yard."

"You're sorry what you did, right?" Jim said.

"Very. Look, I can't live without her. I feel like I'm dying!"

"You want to try the back door first?" Jim said.

"That's a good idea," Olivia said.

Bob Vasile hadn't knocked on a back door since he was a delivery boy for his neighborhood grocery store when he was a teenager.

"Yes! Excellent idea," Bob said and started for the back door with another armful of flowers and the shopping bags filled with gifts.

Olivia and Jim followed.

"How long they been married?" Jim said.

"Five years," Olivia said.

"He's got it bad."

"Yes, he does. I've never seen him like this."

"So, y'all go back?"

"Like thirty years."

Olivia thought it was very peculiar that Jim was imposing himself into the situation and being so inquisitive, but she was also amused by it. Maybe it was a southern thing-men sticking together, people asking personal questions or something like that. In any case, Jim could turn out to be more help than she might be because she had a sense that he knew how things worked in that neck of the woods. He knew the history of that rose, didn't he?

Bob went through the screened-in porch and knocked on the kitchen door. Belle opened it.

"What's wrong with you?" she said very emphatically, her hand on her hip.

"I've come to tell my wife that I'm sorry and that I love her and that I want to spend the rest of my life proving it."

"I'm not impressed. Don't you know Miss Maritza don't want to truck no more fool wid you?"

"Belle, have mercy on me. Will you just give her these flowers and gifts and tell her I'm on my knees begging for forgiveness?"

"I can't see n.o.body on they knees. Y'all 'spect me to lie for you?"

Bob immediately dropped to his knees and Belle looked over to Jim and did a double take.

"Well, look who the cat dragged in! Hey there, Jim, dahlin'! How you been getting along?"

That's how he knew about the rose, Oliva thought.

"Hey, Miss Belle! You sure do look good."

"Thank you, baby. You want a piece of my cake?" she said so sweetly the birds almost fell from the trees.

"You know I do!" Jim said, smiling wide.

"Well, get on in here! Cake is perishable, you know."

Belle s.n.a.t.c.hed the flowers and shopping bags from Bob, scowled at him, and opened the door to allow Jim to enter.

Jim looked back at Bob and said, "We used to go 'round together."

"Help me, Jim! This is my life!"

"I'll do what I can," he said.

Belle frowned at Bob and she slammed the door again.

"There are other forces at work here," Olivia said to Bob. "Things we don't understand."

"They're playing with me. What do we do?"

"I don't know. Wait a few minutes and call the house. Maybe she'll have caller ID and know it's you. Or maybe we just let them play their game. This has all the earmarks of something that was orchestrated for your benefit. Let's wait a few minutes and see what happens."

"Olivia, listen to me. Look at this situation, will you? My wife is inside. My daughter is inside. My driver is inside. And I'm standing in the effing backyard with you! What's wrong with this picture?"

The back door opened again. Jim stuck his head out.

"Miss Olivia? Miss Maritza wants to talk to you. But just you."

"Jim!" Bob said, his hands in the air as if to say, Come on, man! What's happening?

Jim put up his hand and waved back at Bob. Then he gave him an okay sign to let Bob know that negotiations were under way. Olivia disappeared inside the house.

Bob wasn't so sure. He moved back around to the front of the house, deciding to look through the windows. Moving like a cat, he got down close to the ground and very carefully peered into the living room window. Nothing-not a sign of life. He moved across the portico in a ninja crouch, stopped under the wood panels of the front door to peep into the gla.s.s panels that ran its length on both sides. Nothing but the nasty-tempered miniature shih tzus that followed Martha Ann wherever she went. Bob hated those dogs. They started to bark. All they did was bark and try to nip his ankles. Of all the breeds in the world? What was the matter with a golden retriever? Or a Cavalier? He moved on to the dining room windows. No one was in there either. No, because they were probably all in Martha Ann's gourmet kitchen eating homemade pound cake, sipping sweet tea, and having a grand old time, snorting with laughter and getting caught up on all the issues of the day while he was outside crawling around like a snake trying to get just a glimpse of his family he so desperately wanted back! It was outrageous to him. Outrageous! But his mother always said something about h.e.l.l's fury and scorned women. Apparently she was right, he thought.

When Bob left his other wives, he never tried to win them back. This was a first for him and now he knew the bitter taste of regret. Regret was coursing his veins. He was hangdog and completely miserable. In his mind, he could hear Maritza's laughter and he could feel her arms around him, and the same was true about Gladdie.

He finally sat down on the front steps and put his head in his hands. He thought, This is hopeless. Maritza's had it. I blew it. He sat there for a very long time, perhaps an hour or more. As time pa.s.sed, he got more and more depressed.

I'm a shallow man, he thought. All I've ever cared about was making money, having a beautiful woman on my arm, and living large on my terms. Somewhere along the line I forgot about things that were supposed to matter because, because, because . . . why?

Because he refused to be vulnerable.

Love made you vulnerable. It was too late for Bob because now he was in love and she was going to break his heart. Maritza was going to break his heart. He just knew it. He stood up, thinking he'd just go wait in the car. It had to be more comfortable that the hard bricks he was sitting on. As he stood, the front door opened behind him.

"Daddy?" It was Gladdie.

His heart soared!

"Yes, princess?"

"Mommy wants to talk to you," she said.

"Thank G.o.d! Thanks, sweetheart!"

Bob scooped Gladdie up into the air and landed her on his hip. They walked into the foyer and he saw that Martha Ann's other housekeeper was setting the table for dinner. Martha Ann came out to greet him.

"h.e.l.lo, Martha Ann," Bob said.

"h.e.l.lo, Bob. Thank you for the beautiful gifts."

"You're welcome. Just a token, really."

Bob knew if his gifts were accepted, his prospects had improved.

"Now put my granddaughter down, Bob, and go wait in the living room."

Bob put Gladdie down and she ran to the kitchen.

"Prepare yourself for the Great Chastis.e.m.e.nt. Maritza is plenty provoked with you as you know."

"I don't blame her."